That file is not me;
It does not accurately present my personality,
Nor does it portray my true identity.
It’s merely a biased summary;
Highlights of my life’s mistakes used to characterize me into the villain that the system needs me to be for the sake of siphoning money from the taxpayers of society.
The mark of the beast branded upon me;
A number replaces where my name was erased.
My number doing numbers for the beast,
Lining it’s pockets through constitutional approved institutional slavery.
And self despairingly,
I’m willing to confess to you what that file says of me:
I became inducted into juvenile delinquency;
My first adjudication being an “UUMV”. (unauthorized use of a motor vehicle)
Then I became a statistic of recidivism because of an assault and a burglary,
The latter being the reason I got sent to T.Y.C.
I victimized people because I, myself became a victim to the lore of the streets;
My choice of street credits earning me an unaccredited degree in committing aggravated robberies,
Which got me a 20 year tenure in the state penitentiary
Accumulating no salary
And the benefits of a “good time” and “work time” not applying to me,
So there’s no hope for an early release
And parole is just a dream.
All this is in that file if that’s what you care to read.
Just don’t overlook the fact that I entered a guilty plea for these aggravated robberies - excepting judgment and responsibility.
And as you read
Please keep in mind that black ink is not the blood of me,
And white paper is not the flesh of me.
I’m so much more than the monster that file portrays me to be
That, you’ll see
If only you would take the time to get to know me.
Somewhere within, I’m free
I just have to dig deep and find that place within me,
Because this place below the pig’s feet
Is not my destiny.
No, it’s not my destiny.
It’s a place of temporary contingency;
Find inner-peace and be truly free,
Stay confined within the confines of my mind
Which keeps me in a constant state of rewind
Because I refuse to leave my past behind
And be born anew into a new self-refined,
God designed man who is progressively inclined
To climb out of ditches, ruts and tombs,
To rebuke my many devils and their luring tunes,
To extinguishing fires past, along with its fumes
And to embrace my future as it beautifully blooms
Into the Garden of Eden that’s already placed within me
Of which I’d have found because I’d seek,
Not below the pig’s feet
But atop of the mountain peaks called, Destiny.
Songs of Fire
I rise from the ashes to my knees,
From my knees to my feet,
Then I spread my arms out wide
As they metamorphose into wings,
My attention is fueled by the desire
To transcend myself higher and higher
As my vices are consumed by the fire;
The fire of which is my attire
At the peak of my climb I become refined
With a renewal of the spirit and mind
But as I descend
I am once again sucked in
Into the world of sin,
Where I become a prisoner to the fire of my passions
Until they consume me back into ashes.
But as soon as I’m ready to be set free;
I rise again from the ashes to my knees,
Then from my knees to my feet,
And as I spread my wings,
Invoke the Phoenix in me to sing
Its songs of fire.
Reaching For The Portal
I stand at the barred door,
With its air of vainglory for keeping me imprisoned,
Staring out the windows to the outside world,
Whose glass is like a transparent portal through
Which the other side is another dimension.
Their sun shines through, promising a world of light;
Beckoning me with its contrasting warmth
Compared to this place where I’m emotionally cold.
But like the zoo I live in, I’m the lion that paces
The cage while looking out beyond into the
Expanse of freedom that I naturally belong to.
And like the nagging buzz of a fly in my ear, in
The background of my day dreaming, all I
Can hear is the barren door haunting me with
Its sarcastic laugh.
But as the sun travels its arc, shadows get cast
And I find myself triumphantly laughing back
At the door,
Because somehow my shadow has slithered
Through the narrowness of the bars,
Stretching desperately to reach the portal;
Itself a projection of my will, willing itself
Hear The Whisper
There’s a word;
It describes a feeling
A state of being
That consumes a person’s being
Inside, it wallows in an abysmal void;
A vortex of darkness.
In which one finds a contradictive sense of stoic joy.
This joy is painful.
It cries out in anguish,
In the shameful darkness
Whose reflection looks vainless;
I dare not admit its name,
Nor let others see its power over me
Although as if it’s some sort of game
It’ll play peek-a-boo with the few
Whose ears can barely see:
When you look at me
And witness my personality,
What do you see?
Don’t be cliché or superficial;
Try to paint a detailed, fuller picture.
Assign characteristics, but then tell my why.
And if you can go deep, tell me why to that why,
As you try to undress my mind
To get a deeper understanding of the “me” in front of the “I”.
There’s no need to be shy.
And don’t think you have to be nice.
Just speak your mind about me without telling-
Because in me
And that’s all I can be.
And I’m curious about your curiosities
Towards our inner compatibilities.
Take your time,
As I have nothing but time.
Look into my eyes,
And just define…